Legacy of Lies (12 page)

He parked in front of the house and got out of the Jeep without glancing at me. Following him up the porch steps, I noticed the clay and mud caked on the thick rubber soles of his Nikes.

“Our shoes are a mess,” I said, sitting down on a bench to remove mine. He checked his, then sat opposite me. By the time he started unlacing his shoes, mine were off and I was carrying them into the house.

Grandmother met me, coming through the door from the back wing. “You’re late.”

“For dinner?” I glanced up at the landing clock. It wasn’t five yet.

She stared at my shoes. “What were you doing after work?”

“Hanging out.”

Matt came in the door and Grandmother’s eyes darted to his shoes. Color rose in her cheeks. “Where have you been?”

Though the question was fired at him, I answered, since the trip had been my idea. “To the mill.”

“Why did you take her there?” Grandmother demanded, still focusing on Matt.

I saw the wary look on his face. “1 asked him to,” I said.

“I’m not talking to
you.”

“Megan wanted to see the place,” Matt replied, “and I thought it’d be safer if I went with her.”

“Megan wanted to see the place,” Grandmother mimicked.

“I did,” I said. “I was curious.”

Grandmother took a step toward me. “I told you the day you came that I expected you to respect my privacy. Didn’t I?”

I nodded silently.

“I’m speaking to you now. Answer me aloud!”

“Yes, Grandmother.” I couldn’t snap at her. If I was feeling haunted by Avril’s presence, I could only imagine how she felt.

“So now you’re going to be sweet and soft-spoken,” she observed, her lips curling. “Sweet and sneaky.”

“Ease up, Grandmother,” Matt said. “Did you ever tell Megan not to go to the mill?”

“Are you defending her?”

“All I’m saying is you’re getting all worked up over a little visit to the mill,” he replied.

“And Lydia Riley,” she added.

I looked at Grandmother, surprised. “Who told you that?”

“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you promise not to speak to her again.”

“Why?”

“Don’t talk back to me!” Her voice was shrill.

I sat down on the steps, hoping to make this a conversation rather than an irrational shouting match.
“I wasn’t talking back,” I explained. “I was just wondering-”

“You’re living in my house, you’ll follow my rules.”

I bit my lip, then nodded.

Matt rested a hand on her arm. “Grandmother, be fair. Megan was just asking-”

She turned on him. “I don’t have to explain my rules to anyone, including you, Matt.” Her jaw began to shake. “I can’t trust you anymore. Not since
she’s
come.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“You’re loyal to her now.”

He stared at Grandmother. It was as if he had to be on her side, or my side, and wasn’t allowed to care about both of us at the same time.

“Get a hold of yourself,” he said, and walked out the back door of the hall.

Grandmother stood in front of me, her head held high, then strode into the library and shut the door behind her.

I remained sitting on the steps, bewildered by her jealous suspicions. Some wounds heal, others fester, Mrs. Riley had said. Maybe Grandmother had never really healed from her first betrayal. Matt was the most significant person in her life now, and she the most consistent person in his. I wondered if she saw me as someone like Avril, putting myself between them. Maybe Grandmother was afraid of losing out again.

Well, that was her problem. She was the one who
chose to spin her world around one grandchild, rejecting my parents and brothers and me. I rose and climbed the stairs, feeling torn between pity and anger. Then I heard the machinery of the big clock begin to wind. I took the steps two at a time, hurrying past before it could start its dismal tolling.

twelve
 

Wednesday morning I saw Matt just long enough to ask if I could pick up my e-mail from his computer. When he’d left for school, Grandmother informed me that she had an early appointment. I didn’t ask where, not after yesterday’s reminder about her privacy. She drove off and I went upstairs to retrieve my mail. I had several messages from friends at home, but it was Mom’s letter I was most eager to open. I printed it out, deleted the electronic copy, then sat back to read.

Hi, Sweetheart!

Dad and I loved your e-mail. We felt like we were back on High Street again.

Life here isn’t the same without you. Pete and Dave have both said they miss you, though I
promised them I wouldn’t squeal (crossed my fingers).

In your note you barely mentioned Grandmother. I know you, Megan, and I worry when you get silent. I’m counting on you to let me know if there’s a problem.

So you found the dollhouse! It was built for Grandmother and her sister. I played with it as a kid, but I can’t find a photo of it anywhere. Why do you ask?

About Aunt Avril. Neither Mother nor Dad spoke much of her. I’ve never even seen her picture—perhaps they were all put away when she died. We weren’t supposed to ask questions about her. Dad said it made Mother sad to think about her sister. I do remember putting birthday flowers on her grave in April—Avril is the French word for that month. In October, too—I think that’s when she died. She had a close friend named Angel, Angel Cayton. Angel’s father was a doctor, and someone told me that Avril was brought to him the night she died. That’s as much as I know.

Everyone’s well here. The Naughtons’ spaniel had puppies. Write soon. And this time don’t leave out whatever you were trying to skirt around in your last e-mail.

Love,

Mom

I printed out my friends’ notes, then logged off. As soon as I got to work, I’d ask Ginny to help me find Avril’s friend.

“Angel Cayton,” Ginny said, stuffing tissue down the arms of a pale silk dress that was decorated with seed pearls. She and I had put the dress on a seamstress form so Ginny could photograph it for an out-of-town client. “I haven’t thought about her in ages. She died fifteen, no, must be twenty years ago now. Angel was a character-very active in town affairs and generous with her money. She started the Watermen’s Fund.”

“Did she leave behind any family?” I asked, though I had little hope of someone remembering stories they were told more than twenty years ago.

“I don’t think so. Evie?”

Evie Brown, one of our elderly customers who came by almost every day, was standing in front of a mirror, trying purses on her arm.

“Evie, do you know if Angel Cayton has any family left around here?”

Miss Brown chewed over the name for a moment. “Nope,” she said at last. “Angel was an only child and never married. Her sweetheart, Sam Tighe, died in the last war.”

“That’s World War 11,” Ginny whispered to me.

“Angel got killed in a car accident, didn’t she-yes, I’m sure,” Miss Brown answered herself. “Out Talbot Road on Dead Man’s Curve. Though Angel was the only one who ever died there. Why we don’t call it
Dead Woman’s Curve, I just don’t know. The county never gets things straight.”

“I don’t think the county named the curve,” Ginny said gently.

“State’s just as bad,” the woman responded, then reached for a red purse on a peg beyond her grasp. I walked over and lifted it down.

“Sorry we can’t help you out,” Ginny told me.

“What’s the problem?” the old woman asked, taking the red purse from me, then looping the others she had tried on my arm, as if I were a store rack.

“I was hoping to talk to Miss Cayton,” I replied.

“Then try Lydia Riley. She’s good at ringing through to the other side.”

I heard Ginny swallow a giggle.

“I’m surprised your grandmother didn’t suggest that,” Evie added. “Helen was over there today.”

She added the red purse to my arm.

“Over where?”

“Seeing Lydia Riley. Right before my appointment this morning.”

“Are you sure?”

“Are you saying I get mixed up?” Miss Brown asked, her eyes flashing.

“No, no. I’m surprised, that’s all.”

“Me, too,” she agreed amiably. “Far as I know, they haven’t spoken for years. Can’t imagine what they had to talk about.” She peered up at me inquisitively. “Can you?”

“No,” I said, imagining a
lot
of things.

*   *   *

Sophie dropped by the shop that afternoon. After finishing up with a customer, I joined her at the jewelry case. She was leaning on her elbows, gazing down at the aquamarine pendant.

“Guess what?” I said. “We have another invite for tomorrow night. A party,”

She straightened up and smiled. “Whose? The only party I know about is Kristy’s.”

“That’s it.”

Her face fell. “I wasn’t invited, and I don’t think Kristy would be thrilled if I just showed up. I haven’t been part of her crowd since middle school. You go to the party, and we can see the movie Friday night.”

“But you’re not crashing it,” I told her. “Matt is asking you.”

“Matt?” Sophie’s cheeks grew pink. “Kristy will kill me!

“But I thought you liked him. And I thought you said he doesn’t date one person.”

“I do like him. And he doesn’t date one person. And she’ll still be mad as anything.”

“Who cares? You can talk to me at the party. I’m going with Alex.”

“Oh! I have to think about this, Megan.”

“Alex said you used to be best friends.”

“Yeah, forever ago.” Sophie went over to the silk dress Ginny had put on the seamstress form and traced its seed pearl design with her finger. Ginny came out of the storeroom, eyed Sophie, then eyed
the dress. She held her head to one side and squinted, an action that usually meant we were about to rearrange a display.

Sophie turned back to me. “Alex and I used to spend every day together at school and during the summer, crabbing time,” she said. “He could always convince me to chicken neck off the bridge at four in the morning. I was the only person who’d go out with him in his old boat in pouring rain to set a trot line. I really liked being around him and the water.”

“Then this should be fun.”

Sophie didn’t look so sure. “I hope he’s forgotten about the valentine I sent him in fifth grade.”

“Why?” I asked.

“It was so embarrassing. Alex wanted to hang out with the guys, and they wouldn’t let a girl tag along. I wanted him to know he was important to me, so I made him this valentine heart. I drew crab legs around it for lace, and a boat oar for the arrow.”

I laughed out loud and Sophie blushed.

“One of his friends found it and showed it to everyone. They teased him awful. That was pretty much it for Alex and his
girl
friend.”

She paused and watched Ginny, who opened the jewelry case and took out the aquamarine pendant.

“Listen, Sophie,” I said, “if there’s one thing I’ve learned about guys, it’s that they don’t remember sentimental things, not even a heart with crab legs for lace. Besides, that was fifth grade. I think Alex has changed his mind about hanging out with girls.”

She laughed a little. “I guess so.”

“So think about it,” I told her. “We’ll do whatever you want to do.”

“Sophie, don’t go anywhere,” Ginny said. “I need a favor. Would you put on this dress and let me take your picture?”

“The pearl dress? Oh, my gosh!” Sophie gasped.

“I think that’s a yes,” I said.

Ginny undid the buttons and removed the dress from the form. “Let’s see now,” she said, talking to herself more than us, “we’re going to need some shoes, and let’s put your hair up on your head, so a nice comb, soft ivory pearls for that red hair.” Ginny picked up an armful of items, then ushered Sophie to the dressing room in the back.

I served two customers, waiting for Sophie to come out. When the bells hanging on the shop door jingled a third time, I looked up to see Alex and Matt in their running clothes.

“Let me guess,” I said, “you’re interested in lace hankies.”

Alex grinned. “Do you have any that match our shorts?”

“White goes with everything,” I replied.

Matt flashed a smirky, flirty smile.

“So, what’s up?”

“Have you talked to Sophie?” Alex asked. “Does she want to go to the party?”

“She’s still deciding.” I heard Ginny’s voice coming
from the back. “If you wait a minute, you can ask her yourself.”

Ginny emerged from the dressing room, followed by Sophie. I don’t know who was more amazed at the sight of the other, Alex or Sophie.

“Nice dress!” Matt complimented Sophie.

The silk and slender pearls were as shimmering and delicate as Sophie herself. Her upswept hair showed off her high cheekbones and long neck. The aquamarine pendant was the same misty blue as her eyes. Neither Alex nor Matt could stop looking at her.

“Sophie,” Alex said, “for a minute I didn’t know you. You, uh, you’ve grown up.”

She frowned. “Since math class? You saw me in math today, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.” He reddened. “I guess it’s the dress and all.”

“No,” Ginny corrected him, “it’s the
girl
in the dress and all. Okay, honey, let’s get your picture over here.”